


Order of Dance

by MarianneGreenleaf



Series: Building a Life Together: The Courtship of Marian Paroo [9]
Category: The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: Clandestine canoodling, Courtship is the best ship, Dance of Romance, Dashing former conman, Defrosting Ice Queen, Edwardian era, F/M, Fluff with depth, Ladykiller In Love, Passion vs Propriety, Sometimes staying legitimate is hard, Unpacking emotional baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, gorgeous gowns, heartwarming domesticity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianneGreenleaf/pseuds/MarianneGreenleaf
Summary: Harold Hill takes Marian Paroo to the Fireman's Ball and continues to realize his intense longing for sweet domesticity with her.
Relationships: Harold Hill/Marian Paroo
Series: Building a Life Together: The Courtship of Marian Paroo [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/26553





	Order of Dance

**Author's Note:**

> The premise for this fic was inspired by a poster advertisement for the Fireman’s Ball, as seen in the background of the 1962 movie when all the River City-ziens were running amok trying to hunt down Harold Hill. The title of this fic was inspired by the heading on dance cards of yore, which often simply read “Order of Dance.”

_When Harold danced with Marian at the Fireman’s Ball, he was stunned to realize that the last dance they shared was the Shipoopi, all the way back in July. In the absence of being able to make love, dancing was the next best thing – how could he have let two whole months slip by? But it wasn’t as simple as whisking the librarian out to the dance floor whenever he pleased – at this event, they auctioned each round with the ladies to raise money. So Harold bought every single one of Marian’s dances, and no one dared to outbid him._

_~September 1912, Dancing Drabbles, Marianne Greenleaf_

XXX

As a conman, Harold Hill had always avoided charity balls. Not only were they boring and stuffy affairs, he made it a point never to pay for entertainment that he could easily get for free – whether it was dancing the night away or fooling around with a gal in between the sheets.

Yet here Harold was, standing on the Paroo front porch and fiddling nervously with his fancy pink and silver bowtie, hoping like a besotted teenager that his beloved would approve of the picture he presented. The music professor was to be Marian’s escort to the annual River City Fireman’s Autumn Ball, a major philanthropic fundraiser held at the opera house on the last Saturday of September. It was the swankiest event he’d attended with the librarian to date, so he spiffed himself up as nicely as he knew how, donning a smart black evening suit that was the first such ensemble he’d ever purchased as an adult – he’d only rented or borrowed such extravagant garments on the rare occasions he’d required them before. But the former flimflam man figured that since he’d bought a house, he might as well splurge on evening wear, too. He’d put down permanent roots in River City, so there was no doubt in his mind that he’d find another occasion to wear this dashing suit.

Since this was such a formal occasion, sartorially speaking, Marian had told him what she was planning to wear beforehand so they could coordinate. But when the librarian opened the front door to greet Harold, his breath still hitched in his throat as he took in the full impact of her stunning ensemble. She was always lovely in whatever she wore, but tonight she looked more gorgeous than ever. Her evening gown was a shade of pink that defied description: it somehow managed to be delicate and bright at the same time. The diaphanous fabric, which floated becomingly around her curves, was both airy and shimmery, shot through with silver accents that sparkled in the light. The bodice and belt were embroidered with silver leaf-like patterns – the gown’s one concession to autumn – and the most charming pair of tassels dangled from her above-elbow sleeves.

Harold ought to have paid the librarian the most handsome compliment he could have mustered with his silver tongue, but all he could do was stare at her. Fortunately, she seemed to take his inarticulate stupor as compliment enough, and beamed warmly at him as she grasped his proffered arm. But before she fell into step with him, she turned and blew a kiss to Mrs. Paroo and Winthrop, who were grinning at them from the parlor window. All those who were under the age of majority – that is, twenty-one – were not permitted to attend this particular ball, so the matron had elected to stay home to mind her son.

As the music professor and the librarian made their way to the opera house in charged but companionable silence, Harold couldn’t help reflecting how strange it felt to be heading to an event that he had nothing to do with leading, organizing, or playing a role other than mere spectator along with everybody else. The annual Fireman’s Ball was strictly the purview of Mrs. Shinn and her ladies – now known as the Events Committee – and given the ironclad no-children rule, none of the members of the boys’ band would be attending this dance. So the only responsibility the music professor needed to see to was that his lady had a wonderful time.

However, as a member of the Events Committee, Marian was roped into doing a shift at the “Jams and Jellies – 25¢” table. Although the librarian generously suggested that Harold go mingle with the others if he preferred, he insisted on remaining by her side the entire time – and with his gift of gab, he tripled the normal sales from this fundraising effort. As they tabulated all the proceeds right before Ethel Toffelmier’s turn at the table, this discovery prompted a delighted laugh from the librarian and a teasing warning that _he_ was probably going to be asked to man the table next year.

“I’ll gladly do it if you keep me company,” Harold said seriously.

“I’d like that very much,” Marian conceded, blushing as charmingly pink as her gown – though whether her ladylike delight was due to the reminder that he was planning to be around next year or the fact that he was presently tracing a finger up the silver embroidered diamond pattern on her sleeve, he wasn’t sure.

When the librarian shivered and leaned into his caress, he took it as an invitation to brush his ear with her mouth and whisper, “I think it’s time for a dance, Madam Librarian.”

Marian sighed as if she’d never wanted to say _yes_ to an invitation so badly in her life. “Oh… but I’ve got to check the silent auction results first,” she regretfully demurred.

Harold suppressed the giddy laugh that was massing in him – little did she know that he’d paid handsomely for her company, but he wanted her to find this out for herself. “Of course,” he said graciously, and followed her over to the papers posted on the wall by the opera house’s entrance.

While the music professor and the librarian had come to this ball together, it was a highly regimented affair with many rules. Ragtime dancing and spieling were positively forbidden. Only ladies and gentlemen were permitted to dance together. And if a gentleman wanted to dance with a lady, he had to purchase one or more rounds through silent auction. This latter decree affected bachelors and married men alike – even husbands had to pay for the privilege of dancing with their own wives. And in the spirit of both long tradition and enforced altruism, they did just that.

So naturally, Harold bought every single dance available on Marian’s card: the two-step, the waltz, the galop, the schottische, the quadrille, and of course, the Shipoopi (which to his great amusement was now apparently considered a perfectly acceptable digression from the “no ragtime” rule – perhaps his arrival to town had more influence on this stodgy annual event than he thought!).

Thankfully, there was no limit to the number of dances a gentleman could purchase with a particular lady, though the politely suggested maximum was three, for parity. Although the music professor was no longer a conman, this was one “suggestion” that he would gladly and unrepentantly flout. From the night he’d first pulled the librarian to dance the Shipoopi with him on Madison Park Pavilion, he’d made it unequivocally clear to the rest of River City that she was _his_ partner… even if they weren’t officially engaged just yet. And while his tacit claim on her company did not stop several other young bucks from bidding for dances with the lovely librarian – Harold was slightly alarmed to discover that Miss Paroo was apparently more popular than he expected – no one proved devoted or foolhardy enough to submit any subsequent bids once he threw his hat in the ring. It was a good thing, too, because after two whole danceless months, the music professor wasn’t at all inclined to let any other fella beat his time with the woman he loved.

Indeed, when Marian realized that Harold Hill was to be her unchallenged partner for the entire evening, the elated look on her face was glorious to behold. Harold wished he could have taken a picture of the moment she whirled around to gape at him with glee.

“You didn’t!” she said delightedly.

Harold grinned and pulled her right to the dance floor, where several other bought-and-paid-for ladies were already engaged in a vigorous two-step with their partners. “Of course I did, my dear little librarian. And it was worth every single penny.”

The warm beam and come-hither glance that Marian gave him in return knocked him so off-balance that he almost lost his footing. So Harold turned his entire concentration to leading her in each dance as gracefully as he knew how, and it wasn’t until they settled into the slowest and most basic of waltzes that he’d recovered enough of his equilibrium to resume their conversation.

“I’m not the only one who wanted to dance with you tonight, you know,” he informed her with an impish gleam. “Even if you didn’t see the number of bids for your rounds, you can’t have missed all the admiring looks the other fellas have been aiming your way tonight.”

Marian raised an eyebrow and gave him an arch smile. “Jealous are we, Professor Hill?”

“Very,” Harold admitted, without any shame. His arm tightened possessively around her waist. “If not a single one of them could see what a rare jewel you were before I came to town, they shouldn’t get to bask in your glow now. They’ll just have to continue admiring you from afar.”

“Is it truly admiration in their eyes?” she asked, looking concerned instead of flattered.

“It had better be,” he assured her. For a maid, she was awfully aware of the more indecorous masculine inclinations, and he couldn’t help wondering what had happened to put her so on guard when it came to men’s carnal appetites. Gazing around the opera house, Harold frowned at the fellas whose names he’d noted on the auction sheet for Marian Paroo. After Fred Gallup’s attempted flirtation at the boys’ band parade last August, he would brook no other rival for the librarian’s affections. And to his satisfaction, all the young bucks who’d ventured to bid for her looked well-pleased with their consolation partners, which further proved the fickleness of their feelings.

Harold’s full attention was brought right back to Marian when she let out a shrewd laugh and observed, “I think I have a little bit more to be jealous about, _Mister_ Hill. Several of the other ladies in attendance tonight have been looking quite enviously at us – clearly, they’re disappointed that the dashing music professor didn’t bid to dance at least once with _them_.”

Although Harold couldn’t deny this was likely the case, her remark still managed to surprise him. “I never considered how many feathers I might be ruffling,” he said sincerely. “And quite frankly, I don’t care if they’re ruffled, even if it does cost me a little business. They’re nothing but fair-weather admirers – they weren’t standing by me when the mayor himself called for me to be tarred and feathered. _You_ were. And so I only think of you.”

Marian rewarded him with another one of her incandescent beams. “I’ve always wanted a man who’s more interested in me than he is in himself.”

“And more interested in ‘us’ than in ‘me’?” he promptly finished the thought.

She gasped. “How did you know?”

Harold’s grin turned sheepish, and he figured he might as well come clean. “I overheard you telling your mother all about your white knight last summer.”

The librarian regarded him with an expression that was both avid and apprehensive. “And… what did you think?”

It was an easy question to answer, as the music professor had been prepared for this conversation ever since he owned up to the fact that he’d fallen in love with her and wanted to be with her for keeps. “It was very instructive. I’ll never be a plain, modest, or quiet man, but hopefully I can make up for this deficiency by being gentle, straightforward, and honest.”

Marian looked both relieved and happy. “Don’t pay any mind to the ramblings of a silly spinster! I don’t want a plain, modest, or quiet man – I want _you_ , Harold. And I think I wanted you even back then, though I didn’t quite know it.”

If Harold could have gotten away with kissing her right here and now, he would have. Instead, he tightened his arms around the woman he loved and pulled her as close as propriety allowed him to in public.

XXX

After the dancing portion of the evening was concluded, Harold bought himself and Marian punch and pastries, which they enjoyed on a cramped bench in a quiet corner.

“This has got to be the most expensive date I’ve ever taken you on,” he quipped with a chuckle, once they’d finished their repast and placed their dishes carefully on a nearby table for eventual removal.

Marian gave him one of her trademark sly, sideways smiles. “Well, I hope it was worth it.”

Harold took her hands in his and tugged her to face him. “Yes, you certainly are. And just so you know, I’m planning to take you to the Fireman’s Ball every single year from now on, and I’ll buy all your dances for those, too. So go ahead and pencil me into your dance card, because I’ll personally ensure that it’s always full.”

He would never get tired of the way Marian’s eyes shined with sheer joy whenever he affirmed just how much she meant to him, or the way she frankly reciprocated his declarations in return: “You know, Professor Hill, before you came to town and brought such color and gaiety into our lives, this boring old ball was _the_ social event of the year. Though I was compelled to attend for appearance’s sake, and expected to donate as well, no one ever bought a dance with me. But this year, I find myself the belle of the ball. I’ve never had such a wonderful time in all my life!” Then the librarian did something she’d never done entirely unprompted before: throwing her arms around the music professor, she pulled him into a warm hug. “Thank you, Harold.”

It was very late, the lights were low, and no one was looking at them in their out-of-the-way nook. So Harold wrapped his arms around Marian just as warmly and met her mouth with his. He didn’t kiss her as passionately as when they were on the footbridge, but he did take the liberty of parting her mouth tantalizingly enough for their tongues to touch – a liberty she eagerly granted. Still, their embrace remained _just_ on this side of the line from sweet to scandalous – it was exactly the way he planned to kiss her at the altar, once the minister pronounced them man and wife.

Harold still wasn’t quite sure when this momentous occasion would be, but he was absolutely certain that it _would_ be, once they were both ready to take the next step after courtship. However, as they embraced more passionately than they had ever dared to at a public assembly, he was suddenly finding it all too tempting to skip ahead several dances and right to the wedding reception. But as much as his fingers were itching to pull out a diamond solitaire to grace Marian’s beautiful hand, it was a good thing that it was only her hairpin that was presently tucked inside his pants pocket. Given that it was merely two months into their romantic relationship, he suspected that the librarian was still adjusting to her feelings of physical lust for a man, while he was still getting used to his intense longing for sweet domesticity with a woman. So it would be prudent as well as proper for him to wait just a little while longer before proposing.

But even without the formality of a ring, Harold knew to the core of his soul that he was hers and that she was happy. And for now, that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see the gorgeous little pink and silver number that Marian wore to the ball, you can check it out [here](https://sarita29.livejournal.com/102781.html).
> 
> For those who are curious about Harold having one of Marian's hairpins, he slipped it into his pocket when he was helping Marian fix her hair back in [Almost Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/519864). It was a common romantic gesture for an enamored suitor to purloin gloves, dance cards, and other personal articles from the lady who caught his fancy.


End file.
